The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,66
and stupid. This should have been getting better, not worse.
He took a deep breath of cool night air.
Pull yourself together.
Dawn wasn’t far off when Danny turned the corner on to his street. Up ahead, he could see that the light was on in the parlor window of his apartment, and his heart stopped. If James was up at this hour…
Oh no.
Danny hurried inside and jogged up the steps, making as little noise as a man could make on creaky old stairs. As soon as he’d let himself in, he called out quietly, “James?”
“In here,” came the flat response.
Danny shut the door and stepped into the parlor, which was warm and smelled of cigarettes and coffee. “Are you all right?”
James nodded, wiping an unsteady hand over his sweaty face. “Hasn’t been a night like this in some time.” With a dry laugh, he added, “Thought maybe they was behind me.”
Danny moved the other chair closer to James’s and sat down. “Dreams, then?”
His friend nodded, staring blankly at the fire. He absently rubbed his thumb back and forth over the scar on his other hand. He did that sometimes after the nightmares came. Danny didn’t know if he’d been dreaming about the battle that had left his hand wounded, and he’d never had the courage to ask. It had been taxing enough the one and only time James had told him the story—by the time he’d finished describing the shrapnel that’d had the field doctors discussing amputation and had kept him from reaching two friends in need of help, James had been sweating and trembling even more than he was now. The subject was best left alone unless it was James that wanted to discuss it.
Danny opened his mouth to say he was sorry he hadn’t been here to help James through it when James sniffed the air and peered at him. “Been drinking tonight, have you?”
Heat rushed into Danny’s face. “Uh. A little.”
The priest eyed him disapprovingly. “And you didn’t bring any home with you?”
“I, um…”
James laughed. “Celebrating with the lads?”
Danny nodded, guilt twisting in his chest. “I’m sorry, James.” He pulled his friend close and kissed his temple. “I should’ve been here.”
“You were—”
“I was out celebrating stolen liquor while you was—”
“Daniel.”
Danny’s teeth snapped shut.
James clasped both of his clammy hands around Danny’s and drew back to look him right in the eyes. “I can’t ask you to give up your life just so I can sleep through the night.”
“But I’m gone so much now. I’m barely here at all, and you’re—”
“I’m already asking the world of you by staying here with you as often as I do.” He shook his head slowly. “These ghosts will be with me until I die, but I’ve never thought for a moment that this”—he gestured at them both—“is forever.”
Danny winced. “Do you think I’ll abandon you?”
“Of course not. But I can’t expect you to save me from myself each night. Not forever. Someday, you’ll marry. I could be sent to another parish.” He shrugged tightly. “I can’t lean on you forever, Danny.”
Holding him closer, Danny whispered, “But I should be here when you need to lean on someone now.”
“You’re here when you can be, and I’m always grateful for it. But I’ve got God to lean on, and I can get through these nights alone. I promise I can, Danny.”
But you shouldn’t have to.
Sighing, he looked in his friend’s eyes. “How much sleep have you managed tonight?”
James shrugged heavily. “More than you, I reckon.”
Danny chuckled. “Come on, then. Let’s get some shuteye while the building’s still quiet.”
They got up and moved into the tiny bedroom. As they settled in next to each other, Danny’s arm over James’s middle, guilt burned hot in the center of his chest. He should’ve been here for James. It was why James slept here more nights than not, and tonight, when he’d needed Danny, Danny had been away. Away getting drunk on a gangster’s stolen liquor.
He squeezed his eyes shut. James was right that he couldn’t depend on Danny forever, but as long as they were both here now, Danny needed to be here for him.
But how in the world did he do that when he spent so many nights running liquor in from the Atlantic? Was that a sign from God that he should be here instead of out there?
Except he and his crew were living better than they’d ever lived. Their families had food. Their tenements had heat and clean, running water. Mathew was talking about moving